The True America

With your deep forests and treacherous trails, it's hard not to wander.


I get lost in the trees of your beauty, in the leaves of your skies, but mostly in your false promises and myriad of lies. In the path of this long life, the dream of new hope dies, and the path to claim recovery only leads to your demise.


The famous American Dream, in which all the land is free, yet centuries later, we're still fighting for equality. Anchored to delusions of grandeur, in which we are fearless and brave, while we remain chained to our desires in this home of the slaves. (I'm sorry, I mean home of the brave.)


We the people stand as one (unless you're of dark skin or queer) and we worship the same god that most of us fear. 


No alien shall cross these borders! Their lies put us in danger! We must protect this precious land that we so gracefully stole from strangers.


And our nation's flag, tattered and tainted, lies burnt over the floor that our Natives' blood painted.


Make no mistake; we are the United States, bound by the remarkable corruption that has now sealed our fate. Others claim that we are sinking, but do not take the bait! (The only thing bigger than our pride is our unemployment rate!)


Now we come back to the tree in the city upon the hill. It is only a façade for the void we try to fill. Though its branches may look steady, and its roots grow more and more, the leaves are slowly falling. It is rotting at its core.


And as the eagle glides through the sky, it does not make a single sound.

Our own greedy hunger has shot it to the ground.

This poem is about: 
My country


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